


Not All The Time

by MamaZoom



Category: The Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:14:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaZoom/pseuds/MamaZoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not usually like this. Not all the time, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not All The Time

**Author's Note:**

> Beware inserted Johnny Cash lyrics.

It's not usually like this.

Not all the time, anyway.

Only when the exhaustion gets to the extreme. Only when they've been on tour for what seems like ages and ages and the alcohol has stopped pouring and they can only vaguely remember the people who may or may not be waiting for them when they get home. When they are done being chased around and applauded like rock stars. When it's just Noel and Julian alone for the first time in a while. When they finally have a bed with actual fitted sheets and a duvet and the sky is like a bruised, purpled fruit and the moon looks utterly terrifying in it's proximity to the window.

Noel has his mouth around Julian's Adam's apple like a snake trying to devour it's prey and there's not enough and it's all too much for his fried and tired brain and where the hell are his cigarettes, anyway?

There's a hand in his shirt, but behind his zip, nothing is happening.

Just exhausted.

Why on a night like this?

It's not usually like this.

Not all the time, anyway.

Long and searching fingers slip their way past an unbuckled belt and the elastic waistband of his pants, stroking desperately until he feels raw.

It's not like this all the time.

Only sometimes.

He feels ready to cry, but instead, he pushes Noel off. "Not gunna happen tonight." He mumbles. Neither of them can tell if it's from the booze or the late nights, but either way, Noel's not having any of it.

"Need you." He mumbles into Julian's mouth. Guinness and whiskey and stale cigarette smoke never tasted better.

Noel gives up, walking to the window to sketch the rain-slicked pavement, illuminated by that terrifying moon and the halogen street lamps. Outside the city is cold and gray. Stark contrast to the too-humid hotel room and the foreign blue and white glow coming from the muted telly.

He pries his eyes away from the man hunched over the sketch pad and the charcoal on his fingers and fumbles with some CDs. Anything to fill that silence. Dam the well before it bursts.

It's Johnny Cash, suddenly. Julian's inner cowboy trying to fight it's way out. And he wants to open his mouth to make some Broke Back Mountain joke, but he can't find his voice because he'd never noticed how well this song fit the atmosphere that surrounded them throughout the duration of touring.

 

Well, you're my friend and can you see,  
Many times we've been out drinkin',  
Many times we've shared our thoughts,  
But did you ever, ever notice, the kind of thoughts I got?

 

It's not usually like this.

 

And that I see a darkness.  
And that I see a darkness.  
And that I see a darkness.  
Did you know how much I love you?  
Is a hope that somehow you,  
Can save me from this darkness.

 

Not all the time, at least.

He turns over on his side to look at Noel. His wide blue eyes are fixed on the window, watching the rain fall, mesmerized. The evidence of just how much he needs Julian right now outlined clearly in the front of his drainpipes.

 

Well, I hope that someday, buddy, we have peace in our lives.  
Together or apart, alone or with our wives.  
And we can stop our whoring and pull the smiles inside.  
And light it up forever and never go to sleep.  
My best unbeaten brother, this isn't all I see.

 

Not all the time. And certainly not this time, either.

Because while, anatomically, his body just can't feel it--is just too tired right now to even resister the thought--his mind knows just how much he needs that man at the window.

 

Oh, no, I see a darkness.  
Oh, no, I see a darkness.  
Oh, no, I see a darkness.  
Oh, no, I see a darkness.  
Did you know how much I love you?  
Is a hope that somehow you,  
Can save me from this darkness.

 

Their last night on tour will not be like this. He wouldn't allow it.

The song ends. Fades away into the background where it is forgotten. Some instrumental piece of music starts playing and he can't be too arsed to try to recall what it is or who it's by. Right now the only thing that matters is that weary little man-child with his elbows on the window pane.

Experimentally, he clears his throat.

Noel looks up, shaking his fringe from his eyes.

Julian reaches out, pulling the chair Noel is sitting in closer, until their knees are touching. He trailed his fingers up the drainpipes, outlining his bulge briefly before lifting the hem of Noel's shirt, pulling it over his head.

Noel allowed this to happen, resting a hand on each of the armrests of the hotel chair. He watched Julian, clearly waiting for his command.

"Trousers. Off." He's surprised by how much command his voice can muster when he's so tired.

Noel made a noise low in his throat, but obliged, kicking off his boots and odd socks, tangling them in his pant legs so badly that Julian ended up having to give him a hand. Their heads bumped and in the hazy glow of the city and exhaustion, they laughed until their sides hurt.

Julian regained control of the situation before it got too silly by latching his mouth onto Noel's; roughly palming him through his sky blue y-fronts.

Noel's hips thrust upwards. Julian removed his hand.

"Uh uh." Julian slid up the bed, his back against the headboard. "Pants. Off."

Noel slid them down slowly, never breaking eye contact with him. He let out a ragged breath.

Julian lit a cigarette, finally locating them on top of the headboard. He let the nicotine circulate through his system as he contemplated his options.

He blew a ribbon of smoke above his head. Noel watched it, trying to find shapes in it and seeing none. The best he could come up with was a snake wrapped around itself. He swallowed, waiting for further instructions.

Julian's mind was hazy, unable to concentrate on the task at hand, eyes half lidded and threatening to close for hours and hours, until the sun opened up the sky and threw light on their sordid actions.

Sat there in the hot hotel room, just waiting for time to stop feeling so loopy--for it to stop coming in lags and blips like a bad internet connection, like a stop motion film on fast forward.

Noel's hand snaked it's way down his body as the opening cords to "This Will Make You Love Again" crept through the speakers like a creature crawling from a swamp. He pushed the thought aside, opting to think only of Julian's body as his hand stroked up and down his shaft, almost lazily.

Julian leaned forward a bit, captivated by Noel's motions. He'd never seen him do this before. True, there were times during sex when he would wank, but that was only until Julian reached down and took control. This was different. This was a glimpse at another side of Noel. Julian felt wrong and honored to be privy to this--to the knowledge of how Noel found pleasure on his own.

Noel's eyes peeked out from behind his fringe, quietly imploring if this was okay.

Julian nodded only slightly. If anyone else was there, they would not have caught it. But after all the years, they needed no words. Things were understood through tiny movements and stolen glances. Continue what you're doing. I'm feeling it. Go on. Are you sure? I feel like you should be over here with me. No. It's fine? Yes. I like this. You're hot when you do this. Carry on.

Noel's head fell back as his thumb traced a pattern over his head, smearing pre-cum. The jolt that went through Noel's body was almost tangible to Julian; he ached with him, moaned with him, his guts twisting in time to his rhythm.

Why is Chris so prevalent on this disk? Julian thought vaguely to himself as "Kiss and Swallow" started to play. He turned his full attention back to Noel, who was by this time biting his lip so hard Julian was afraid he might break skin.

His cock twitched at this thought--his body finally catching up to his mind. But he dare not move. Dare not break the spell or miss anything Noel might do.

Noel's hips were bucking up into his own grasp, his head thrown completely back now, wanton and moaning and not caring and coming and there's hair everywhere and bared teeth and pale, blushing skin, and Julian's mind is so confused and caught up in the moment he's screaming right along with Noel, cock still untouched.

Noel collects himself in a way that reminds Julian of some foreign life form taking shape--he folds into himself, contorting himself into shapes while in a little ball, and then stretches like a cat after a nap in the noon-time sun. He sits up straight like you're supposed to in a chair and then jump onto the bed in a strange and graceful way.

He crawls on hands and knees towards Julian, wicked smile and shining eyes.

He pulls off clothes, tossing them to and fro with no regard for anything or anyone, taken by want and need and lust and mindless indulgence.

Julian's cigarette burns a hole in the hotel's duvet as Noel's head vanishes between his thighs. The whole thing takes a matter of minutes, a messy display of affection that leaves them both in disarray.

And in the light of morning, after one hour of sleep, the wear and tear shows on their unshaven faces and no one else asks about their dead eyes or the screams that came from behind the wall the night before.

Because if they asked (receiving the truth or a lie), they'd be unprepared to deal with what they heard.

So they pile into the tour bus and head towards their homes in relative silence, for worse or for better. The coffee is strong, and they wont have to live through this glorious hell again. For a little while, at least.


End file.
